Friend and Enemies
by The Devil Massacre
Summary: The Nightstalker and the Robber, Fillan, are friends and plans to go on a mission together. But what they don't know, is how dangerous the misson really is.
1. Chapter 1

**Assasins creed do not belong to me**

**This is my firsts fanfic, so please don't judge :) In this story i have named the Nightstalker Logan**

**Fillan's/Robber's pov**

The old city lied in mist with the night sky over it as he walked through the busy brewery street. A cold breeze sneaked into his bones and made him shiver. It was on days like this his mother used to boil up some milk and then she would cover him up in a filthy blanket, even though she didn't have anything to keep her warm. Their house only had the thin molded up wall as protection from the coldness outside, but it wasn't so bad when they got the fireplace sparkling. He wished he could have seen how much his mother suffered from the harsh winter cold, but he was just the kid. At least, he remembered to give her a Christmas present, unlike his sister. He was torn back from memories when the bar came in sight. The horrible smell of booze and mud combined perfectly to the scenarios of drunken poor people, who didn't have any merciful future awaiting them, as they slaps some prostitutes butt. It was typical Logan to pick out such a place. He knew how to be discreet, at least. No one would suspect them at this filthy life-destroying place, but he still wasn't sure if cooperating with Logan was a good idea.

"Psst, Fillan, over here" Fillan recognized his voice right away. It had this deep and mysterious ring to it. Fillan ignored the irritation that overwhelmed him. He had specifically told him several times that he wasn't supposed to use that name to him. Only the people close to him was allowed to call him by that hideous name. He cursed at his stupid boss who had told Logan his whole name when they were introduced. Why did he have to work with such a self-loving ignorant? Every time McCarthy looked at him, he just wanted to rip him apart. Yes, Logan was that annoying. He had found an isolated spot in the corner with just one single candle and a beer on the small wooden table. His hands were folded and he had the attitude for a rich business man, but his outfit told another story.

"You're late" he said unpleased with only his eyes revealing the intensity in that sentence. Fillan looked at the clock.

"Yeah, with two minutes, bid deal" The robber said, not managing to hide his frustration over this control freak. Joe sighed.

"Just sit down you silly little poof. We wasted enough time already… No thanks to you. Were you too busy with a certain woman again?"

"Just shut up and drink" Fillan answered resigned to him and sat down beside him. Usually he was capable of a good punch line, no matter what, but he was never really able to do that to Logan. It was something about the seriousness that surrounded him that sort of frightened him away from jokes. That certain woman he mentioned was just a business associate that McCarthy slept with ONE time and ever since Logan found out, he had been using that against him.

"Tch!" Sometimes he wouldn't even respond to you, just grunt some sounds.

"So, what's up?" Fillan said trying to avoid the usual awkward silent.

"A guy came to me today and offended my clothes"

"What? What did you do?"

"Let's just say that I won't be hearing from him for a long, long time" he leaned relaxed backwards and hung his arm behind him and let it rest on the top of the chair. Logan didn't reveal any emotions for the guy.

"You love your clothes, that's for sure" McCarthy mumbled jokingly with a smart grin on his face.

"What's there not to like?"

"Ehm, I don't know, maybe those sewer clothes of yours?"

"What! My feelings! Oh god! It hurts so bad!" Logan said sarcastically and dramatically held is heart to his chest. McCarthy couldn't help but to smile. He really didn't understand Logan. One moment he will be dark and mysterious and in the next he changes into a cocky man with a clothes-complex. In addition, it was no way of knowing because of his scarf he had around wrapped around his face.

"But don't worry, it's a good thing. It means that people will stay away from that dreadful stench of sewer, which can come in handy for an assassin"

"Careful blondie. You don't want me to think you mean it, do you?" Logan said threatening, but if you knew his voice well you could hear a tiny, tiny hint of humor, but yet it was a part of Fillan that couldn't help but to be a little afraid of him.

"No, of course not! That's ridiculous! Just messing with you, you smell great!...pal" Okay, he was very afraid. He tried to stop the words from flowing, but he was so nervous that he had no control whatsoever. Things did not improve when he decided to make a friendly punch on his shoulder. 'Why must I always act this around him' he thought panicking.

"…Good. For a moment there I was afraid I had to dump another body today" he said relaxed and leaned himself comfortably back.

"Yeah… Wouldn't want that now do we? Hehe, wouldn't want you to ruin your back" Fillan said with an unconvincing smile.

"So you apologize then?" Logan said with a smart-ass look on his face. Fillan hated that face. It was so annoying; it was just out there, smearing of self-satisfaction. He just thinks he is so better than everyone else. A small part of blondie agreed to that, but ignored the feeling completely.

"Yeah, whatever. HEY! What does a man have to do to get a drink around here?" Fillan said and waved at the waitress.

"Alcohol isn't good for you, you know…pal"

"Yeah, like you have a right to talk."

"I never said it wasn't good for me, just for you" Logan teased him briefly. What had gotten into him all of sudden? It had to be the beer; there was no other explanation to why he suddenly was so filled with jokes. Fillan didn't even want to think about what it might do to him, if Logan reacted like this.

"Jerk… You're no exception" McCarthy said unpleased

"You sure about that?" The Night Stalker asked challenging and leaned forward in order to let him get a close look on his eyes. They were brown and strangely beautiful. They were filled with so much confidence that even the surest man would be unsure. His face was almost too close for comfort and it made Fillan blush. He was acting so strange…

"Ehm…Yes?" he said with hesitation. Logan was probably about to say something "smart" again, but he didn't get the opportunity. A guy was thrown at their table and it smashed it under his stinky fat body.

"Anyone else who wants a piece of these" A man said as he lifted his fists against the crowd that had surrounded to watch the fight, but they avoided him like the plague. He was wearing a cowboy-ish hat, similar to Night Stalkers, but this one also had a red scarf formed like a poncho. To match that he had dressed in a long brown coat, that went well with his black three days beard. Logan stood there as still as a mountain and watched with his intensity and hatred. He didn't like interruption when out of duty; Fillan had learned that the hard way.

"Why is there always someone trying to ruin the one day I'm off work?" Logan whispered with irritation in his voice.

"You, over there! Looking for a fight?" The cowboy said determined and pointed at Night Stalker. That man was clearly under the influence of alcohol, declaring a battle against that devil. He slowly walked towards the drunk and clenched his fists.

"Yeah! Let's rumble tough guy!" The drunk said and positioned himself in an unstable boxing technique. The crowd held their breath as the immortal silence never broke. They felt sorry for him, because no one has witnessed the cowboy lose not even in a drunk condition, but the intensity in the strange opponent face and body language was confident. It would be an exciting fight, even though the cowboy was most likely to win. The devil stopped one meter away from him, allowing the drunk to attack first. Logan smoothly stepped aside avoiding the punch, like it was nothing but a dance to him, and did one quick karate punch at his back. The people around gasped for air as the drunk fell like a statue on the wooden floor. He mumbled ouch before he passed out in the weirdest position. Fillan did not envy that guy. A waitress lost some drinks and looked like she was going to pass out as well.

"Let's go, Fillan, I am done with this place" Logan said and swiftly pushed through the crowd of people, who were still staring at the poor humiliated fellow with their mouth wide open in shock.

"Hey, don't call me that" Fillan said childishly, but he was ignored. Fillan was used to it though, after all Night Stalker was trying to act all cool and dark as he exited, as usual. Blondie almost had to jog beside Logan when they were back on the streets. He must be angry, rushing so fast.

"Hey, wait a minute! Relax will you? You kicked that man's ass and it was awesome. He's not worth hating" Whenever Logan got like this he was impossible to approach. No reaction whatsoever. Fillan sighed with little hope. He couldn't just abounded Logan in this condition, but what else could he do? Well, it would probably be over soon anyways, they were close to his house. It was dirty and ruined, but it must be of some personal value to him. He always went there in time of need.

"Hey, Logan, I'm out of here. Don't feel like petting your mice today" McCarthy tried to keep his voice steady and cool, but he couldn't sense the awkwardness in it before it was too late.

"Wait" The devil said just as Fillan had turned his back on him. Blondie tried to look what he should be expecting next, but Logan's back didn't say much. All he could see was his right eye when he had slightly turned his head toward him. He clenched his fist even harder and his face… was it shame Fillan saw? It became awkward, since he was waiting for him to finish. It felt like it had gone an eternity by the time he finally spoke again.

"Tsch! Never mind. You would just ruin the party their having anyways" He said bitter. Fillan had really tried to figure this guy out, but… he was unreadable. He really just wanted to give up for today, so he mumbled okay and walked in the opposite direction.

"Fillan! Don't take the Fleet Street; it's always overflowed with burglars… Wouldn't want you to…" he said, like he had changed his mind about something"…Catch their smell" he said and almost ran back. Seriously, what was that all about? Wait, was this his idea of an internal joke? Fillan tried to shake off the feeling that was growing in him. He could sense worry about his friend. Something was not right and it had changed Night Stalker. The feeling however, would not let him be.

"What should I do? I've never seen him act like this" he mumbled into the silent night as his house came in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Soory for the short chapter, but the next one will be longer :)**

**No one's pov**

His old wife had been nagging him all week about that damned dog eating their crops. Her ugly yellow teeth were spiked out of her mouth, ready to chew everything that came in her way, including her "beloved" husband. Sweat drops from hard labor, had lifted her hair up in all kind of directions, similar to her teeth. Not that he complained about his dear abomination, he was no better. Fat and stupid was the title he went under when he meet kings and kids in the streets. His self-hatred harshly faded as he heard that damn dog bark again, the nemesis of his wife. Maybe if he got of rid that cursed thing, she would see more of him than his title. His feet stomped forwards on the wet ground that reminded him so of his dear abomination. His leg ached from his weight and back was screaming to lie down, but that dog… If he got ride off it, maybe his wife would prize him as the man he was.

"If that damn dog don't shut up soon, I promise you, fatty, I'll lose all my crops. My only solution then would be to eat you, my dear fatty. From flesh to bone." She said threating as the kitchen knife in his wife's hand, laughed and mocked him of his manhood. In his head, the wife's weapon mocked louder and louder by each step deeper into the barking alley, until he finally saw that filthy dog. He slowly pulled out a mossy knife from a dumpster near the butchery. Remarks, as; "Come here, little doggy," and "Daddy has a sweet for you," didn't really do much. It did nothing at all actually. It stood there as if it didn't notice the abomination was coming closer and closer with the knife raised high. Finally, finally, this cursed dog would be gone and his marriage would be rid of the curse. His heart was choking in his heart, waiting for the moment he would strike. His fingers were already tingling with joy. His whole body was absorbing the thought of serving this tasty food in front of his wife. Eating it, from flesh to bone. Just one breath away now, nothing could stop this, except from a stalker from the corner. A small whisper leaped from his lips and the dog slowly turned around. It was as calm as a silent ocean, but oceans have storms. Within a blink of an eye, the dog was on him; ripping out all the flesh and blood he could with every bite, and soon he would disappear. No dinner for his beloved abomination. He tried to use his arms as shield, but nothing would stop it. Also this reminded him of his wife. Oh, the irony. Just as she had, the dog had wet fur and teeth that would bit anything in its way. At least he dies with a form of his dear abomination as a corps, eaten from flesh to bone.

"Wrong decision." The stalker said as he approached closer to the dying fat man. The fat and stupid man had just enough time left to look into his murder eyes. He had hoped for regret, despair, frustration, but not even that could the gods grant him in his last moments. If he had any care at all, his yellow eyes revealed nothing. Not even anger or pity. Just… Nothing. As he was fading away, melting into the wet pavement, he heard the stalker small grin as a small laugh escaped him. Had it all been an illusion? How could a man laugh like that after killing someone? He was petting his killer dog, encouraging it and having the time of his life.


End file.
